


A Conspiracy Of Ice And Fire

by orphan_account



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Consensual Underage Sex, F/F, F/M, Incest, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jonerys, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Out of character behaviour, R Plus L Equals J, Threesome - F/F/M, jonsa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:28:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ned Stark had never planned on telling Jon Snow the truth of his parentage, but a surprise visit from a dear old friend changes his plans entirely. As a result, a conspiracy is hatched and Ned Stark does something he thought he would never do: throw his support in with the last Targaryens, and plot a rebellion against House Lannister, even if it means angering and turning on his good friend, King Robert Baratheon.





	1. Surprise Visitors

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Game of Thrones/Song of Ice and Fire fanfiction. So pardon me if I get some of the terms wrong, I am still learning the ropes of the GOT and ASOIAF universe. I’m not very familiar with the books, mainly only with the show. I have a little knowledge concerning Jon Connington, False Aegon and such, so they MAY be included, but perhaps not.
> 
> Also, for those who do not like Jon Snow/Sansa Stark being one of the relationships in this story, know that this story wouldn’t be happening, if it wasn’t for that pairing. This plot was hatched, because I wanted the pairing, and it is the natural route I thought my plot should go. Also, Jon, Sansa and Dany as a threesome is going to happen because that is also the nature of where I have seen my plot going.
> 
> Please note that neither the Character, Relationship, or Additional Tag categories are labeled as finished. Due to the sheer amount of characters in the ASOIAF series, I find myself unable to, at this moment, label every character who will appear in this story. As they appear in the story, I will add them in the tags.

**\-----------------------------  
Ned Stark I  
\-----------------------------  
  
**Lord Eddard “Ned” Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North was seated in the Great Hall of Winterfell Castle, enjoying an early morning breakfast with his family – or, rather, _most_ of his family. His Lady wife, Catelyn, was seated to his left, whilst at the other end of the table, most of his children were seated, enjoying their breakfast whilst also chatting and laughing, though Ned wasn’t particularly sure what the current topic was about. Even then, he was happy to see his children so happy at the moment. However, one of his children was missing from the group.  
  
Normally, this wouldn’t be an unexpected occasion. Jon Snow, known as the Bastard of Winterfell, usually refrained from sitting with the Starks during the meal, especially with the Lady Catelyn was at the table. But he was there, seated next to the eldest Stark child, Robb, laughing at something Eddard’s youngest daughter Arya was saying, and somewhat oblivious to the fact that Catelyn would cast an occasional glare at him. Even if his wife had asked him to tell Jon to leave the family table, he wouldn’t do so. Seeing the usual brooding boy laughing with his brothers and sister brought joy to the Warden of the North.  
  
Of those who always had permission to sit at the family table, Arya Stark, the wild wolf of Winterfell, was usually the last of the children to show up for a meal – she was usually too busy making mischief or getting dirty somewhere, much to her mother’s chagrin, to care about having a meal with her family.  
  
No, it was the eldest daughter, Sansa, who was missing from the breakfast table. This caught Ned’s attention and curiosity, as his eldest daughter would never be absent from a meal with the family unless something was terribly wrong. She considered herself a prim and proper Lady of Winterfell, and missing a meal with family was out of the norm for her.  
  
“Where is Sansa this morning, Cat?” Ned asked his wife.  
  
Catelyn tore her glaring eyes from Jon, and turned to her husband. “Pardon, husband?”  
  
Ned decided to ignore the fact that his wife wasn’t hiding her disdain for Jon, even in public. While he would have much preferred that she kept her disdain – or, rather, outright hatred – for the boy in private, he couldn’t find it in himself to tell her to desist. After all, he knew it was his fault that she hated the boy.  
  
_If she knew his true parentage,_ Ned mused, _if she didn’t believe he was the result of something I did out of dishonor, she might have actually come to like the boy as a member of her family, if not one of her own children.  
  
_He knew it was his fault, and therefore he could do nothing to stop her hatred of the boy. Not without telling her the truth. So he ignored the fact that she hadn’t heard him at first because she was too busy glaring at Jon Snow.  
  
“Sansa,” Ned said, “She isn’t here for breakfast.”  
  
A soft smile formed across Catelyn’s lips, so different, so much warmer than her earlier expression. She lowered her voice so her children would not hear her.  
  
“Sansa’s moonblood came today,” even though she whispered, the pride in Catelyn’s voice was evident. “Her first, of course. Our eldest daughter is officially a proper Lady now. According to Septa Mordane, Sansa woke up to blood in her underclothes, and a pool of blood on her sheets. I suppose she had forgotten her lessons about what to expect as a growing lady, because she didn’t realize what was happening. Septa Mordane said she heard Sansa shrieking in her bedroom, and the Septa raced into her room.”  
  
“I did not hear anything,” Ned said, “Was this before or after we awoke?”  
  
“You were out and about doing your early morning Lord’s duties,” Catelyn said, “and I was bathing Rickon. Septa Mordane informed me that she explained to Sansa what was going on. Sansa calmed down pretty quickly after that, realizing what happened. The Septa took her to see Maester Luwin and then she came and informed me what happened. I visited Sansa and the Maester, and asked Sansa if she wanted to eat breakfast in here today.”  
  
“I expect she declined?” Ned asked.  
  
“She did,” Catelyn said, “She just wanted to go back to bed, Apparently the events of the morning startled her. By the time Septa Mordane escorted Sansa back to her bedroom, her handmaiden changed the sheets, and delivered a light meal for her. I expect Sansa ate her meal, and went back to bed. The Septa volunteered to stay with her, so I believe she wanted to give Sansa a remedial lesson of what it means to be a woman. So I suspect Sansa is either asleep once again or --”  
  
“Listening to the Septa dutifully as is per usual,” Ned finished, with a light chuckle; unlike Arya, Sansa never was one to miss a lesson from Septa Mordane, nor ignore anything the woman had to teach.  
  
“Yes,” Catelyn said, another smile gracing her features.  
  
“And I am only hearing about this now?” Ned asked. “I would have assumed Maester Luwin would have come to me after he finished with Sansa.”  
  
“I asked him to let me tell you,” Catelyn said, “I thought it should be my duty as Sansa’s mother. I was planning on telling you after breakfast. It isn’t a discussion I wished to have out here amongst the children.”  
  
“I see,” Ned said. “Is there anything else you wanted to discuss with me?”  
  
“Well, now that you mention it,” Catelyn said, her voice still low, “Now that Sansa has flowered, perhaps we should start thinking about betrothal offers. First and foremost we should consider writing to the King about a match between Sansa and –”  
  
Ned cleared his throat, and Catelyn went silent.  
  
“As you said, Cat,” Ned said, firmly, “this is a discussion for my solar, _not_ the breakfast table.”  
  
Catelyn bowed her head and stared at her plate of food. “Of course, my Lord.”  
  
Ned sighed and continued eating his meal. From the moment Catelyn had told him of Sansa’s predicament with a bright smile on her face, he knew what was on his Lady wife’s mind. He suspected that she had been looking forward to this day ever since Sansa’s most recent name day. Catelyn Stark had always tried to raise her daughters in the Southron way, as she was taught as a young lady of House Tully. She had only half-succeeded.  
  
Unfortunately for the Lady of Winterfell, her youngest daughter was more of a Stark than she was a Tully, and therefore Arya Stark was like several other notable Northern daughters. Eddard Stark oft wondered – mostly in jest – if Arya Stark was not a Stark, but a Mormont. The daughters of Bear Island preferred to go about their days with swords in their hands, instead of needles. The mischievous she-wolf of Winterfell hated her lessons with Septa Mordane with a passion, and was oft seen escaping the Septa’s lessons, with full intentions of finding her eldest brothers, in hopes of joining them in their sword fighting and archery lessons with the Master-At-Arms.   
  
Whilst Catelyn Stark greatly disapproved of her youngest daughter’s rebellious nature, she mostly decided to ignore it by focusing on her eldest daughter. Sansa Stark was every bit of a Southron daughter, the result of being raised and taught by both the daughter of House Tully and Septa Mordane. The eldest daughter of House Stark was prim and proper, dedicated to her lessons and duties of a young, budding Lady. She had dreams of living in a Southron castle, married to a prince and giving said prince beautiful babies to raise. She was quite vocal about these dreams, which not only annoyed her sister, and sometimes her brothers, but also, on some occasions, the Lord of Winterfell himself.  
  
However, Eddard knew that Catelyn was responsible for those dreams, and it was obvious the Lady of Winterfell wanted her daughter’s dreams to come true.  
  
_So, of course,_ Ned mused, as he continued his breakfast, _it is no surprise Catelyn wants me to consider writing to my old friend, His Grace, King Robert Baratheon, to offer a betrothal between his son, Prince Joffrey, and Sansa. I greatly suspect she actually does not wish for me to consider any other Houses to offer our daughter’s hand to, even though said marriage could form an Alliance that could greatly help House Stark and the North during the coming Winter.  
  
_Whilst Ned would, perhaps, approve of uniting the Houses of Stark and Baratheon together by marriage, he didn’t want to consider that his only option for his eldest daughter. As a noble Lord, and especially the Warden of the North, he needed to keep his options open when it came to alliances of marriage between House Stark and the other Noble Houses. King Robert might be his friend, but it did not mean there had to be such bias when it came to his daughter’s hand.  
  
_And yet, if Robert discovers Sansa’s emergence into womanhood soon, he might send a letter to me, by next moon, requesting my daughter for his son._ Ned scoffed silently. _Did I say ‘request’? I meant ‘demand’.  
  
_Ned liked – even loved -- his friend, Robert, like a brother. But sometimes the man thought himself too Kingly not to expect that maybe, perhaps, his friend sometimes _did not_ want something the King wanted.  
  
_I shouldn’t think that,_ Ned chuckled to himself. _After all, everything before the word ‘but’ is considered horseshit. However, Robert should be more amenable to decisions of his Warden of the North. Such as marriage alliances that would be favorable between my House and another Southern house NOT named Baratheon._  
  
His musings were interrupted as he heard someone clearing their throat behind him. Ned looked over his shoulder and found the House Steward, Vayon Poole, standing nearby. He had just met with the man earlier that morning to discuss what needed to be done that day. He wondered what the man had to say that he hadn’t said earlier.  
  
“Steward Poole,” Ned said, nodding in greeting, “What can I do for you?” _And why is it so important to disrupt a meal with my family?_  
  
“Lord Jon Arryn is at the gates, requesting entrance to Winterfell,” Poole said. “He wishes to meet with you in private, my Lord.”  
  
Ned stared at his Steward in shock. What was his good friend, Lord Arryn, doing visiting Winterfell without so much as a raven to announce his coming visit?  
  
“You’re sure it is Jon Arryn?” he asked.  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” Poole said, “He carried no banners, and I did not recognize this other person accompanying him as Kingsguard, or Guard of the Vale, but it is definitely Lord Arryn. I would recognize the man anywhere, even if it has been so many moons since we last met.”  
  
“Who is this other person with him?” Ned asked.  
  
“Is my sister or nephew with them?” Catelyn asked.  
  
“I did not recognize him, my Lord,” Poole said, “By his attire, he seems to be one of the common people, perhaps from the Vale or King’s Landing,” He turned to Catelyn, “Lady Arryn was not with the King’s Hand, my Lady. Lord Arryn did not speak of her or your nephew. He merely requested audience with your Lord husband.”  
  
“Grant them both bread, salt and guest rights,” Ned said, “Then send them to my solar. I’ll go there at once.”  
  
“My Lord,” Poole acknowledged.  
  
The Steward bowed his head and walked out of the Hall. Ned turned back to Catelyn, who had a look of concern cross her face.  
  
“What is Lord Arryn doing here?” Catelyn asked, her tone full of concern, “Did you receive a raven from him and not tell me? Do you think this is about my sister, or Sweetrobin? Perhaps something happened to them.”  
  
“I promise you, that will be one of the first questions I ask, Cat,” Ned said, “If it does not concern them, then it must something else of great importance. And, no, I have not received any recent letters from Jon, nor any other letters from King’s Landing informing me of Jon’s visit. I doubt Maester Luwin has received anything either, as he has not informed me of such.”  
  
_Something tells me nobody in the South knows that Jon Arryn is here,_ Ned mused, _not even his wife. I doubt whatever he is going to tell me has anything to do with his wife or son.  
  
_Ned wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stood up. “I need to go meet with Lord Jon.”  
  
“I should go with you,” Catelyn said.  
  
“Cat,” Ned said, with a firm tone, “He asked to speak to me alone. If his visit had to do anything with your sister or their son, do you not think he would have asked to meet with you too?”  
  
Catelyn looked startled for a moment, then her expression turned to relief. “You’re right of course, my Lord Husband. I will remain here with the children.”  
  
“Thank you,” Ned said, “And Cat? Do not send the boy away until he has finished with his meal.”  
  
Catelyn looked affronted for a moment, then nodded stiffly. “As you say, my Lord.”  
  
Ned turned and headed out of the Great Hall, barely noting the two guards that soon followed behind him for his own security. When he reached his solar, he found that neither Steward Poole, nor Jon Arryn had arrived yet. However, Maester Luwin was there. Obviously, he had heard the news of Lord Arryn’s arrival. Ned ignored the Maester for a moment.  
  
“Allow Lord Arryn and his guest inside when he arrives,” he instructed his guards.  
  
The guards silently nodded, acknowledging him, as he walked into his solar. He crossed the room over to his desk, then sat behind it. Only then did he look up at the Maester.  
  
“Maester Luwin, my friend,” Ned said, “Please tell me you didn’t get any letters from Lord Arryn or King’s Landing about his pending arrival in recent days, and simply chose not to tell me.”  
  
“My Lord, you know I would never do that,” Luwin said.  
  
Ned merely nodded, deciding that the Maester spoke true. “And you’re sure you have seen every raven that entered Winterfell that was meant for me or someone of my House? There isn’t a letter announcing Lord Arryn’s arrival sitting somewhere in your office?”  
  
“I could check to make sure, my Lord,” Luwin said. “But to be completely honest, I would doubt it.”  
  
Ned stared at Luwin for a moment, then nodded. “Then I suppose Lord Arryn decided to come here unannounced. If so, I have to wonder _why._ ”  
  
“I am sure we’ll know the answer to that soon enough,” Luwin said.  
  
Ned nodded his agreement. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Ned stood up once again. He cleared his throat, and braced himself for what he felt might be a _very_ interesting conversation with his old friend.  
  
“Come in,” he said.  
  
The door opened and Ned exhaled softly as Lord Jon Arryn – a man who was like a father figure to him – enter the room, accompanied by another person. Ned could not discern the identity, nor gender, of the person, simply because they were wearing a traveling cloak that hid all of their features, and a hood that hid their face. The figure also wore a traveling pack on his back, and Ned wondered why any of his guards had not relieved the boy of, not only the pack, but his cloak and hood as well.  
  
Ned turned his attention from the mysterious figure, back to his old friend. And it was only then that he realized Lord Jon Arryn did look especially _old._ Not only old. He looked frail, and more vulnerable than Ned had ever seen the man appear. His friend looked like he could keel over at any moment. He would definitely address his friend’s appearance before the meeting was over. But first he needed to address the other person’s appearance.  
  
“My guards allowed your guest inside my home – and this room – dressed like that?” Ned asked.  
  
“I swore on my very own life – and my head – that he could be trusted,” Jon Arryn stated, “If he betrays that trust, you can behead not only him, my friend, but _me_ as well. As such, I do feel I need to apologize for his appearance. I could not allow anyone to see him before I spoke to you.”  
  
“Why?” Ned asked.  
  
Jon did not answer, he merely turned to his guest. “You may lower your hood, boy.”  
  
Ned’s hand twitched toward his sheathed sword, Ice, as the figure removed his hands from his cloak and lowered his hood. The figure turned out to be a young man, and Ned could not discern whether he was older or younger than his eldest son and heir, Robb. While Ned did not know who this young man was, he felt as if the man was _familiar_ to him. He studied the man’s features and suddenly realized why he looked so familiar.  
  
_He looks like a Baratheon._ Ned realized in shock, _He almost looks like Robert, or perhaps Robert’s youngest brother Renly. Who is this man?_

 _  
_ “Who is he?” Ned asked, then turned to the young man, “What is your name, boy?”  
  
“Gendry, my Lord,” the young man said, “Gendry Waters.”  
  
_A Bastard of King’s Landing,_ Ned realized, _A Bastard who looks like a Baratheon. A Baratheon Bastard, perhaps? But who is the sire --?  
  
_He swallowed as the answer came to him, and he didn’t like it. His good friend, Robert, was a known lover of women and the pleasures of women.  
  
_Women who were not his wife, if rumors are true,_ Ned mused, _Especially whores, and not just during visits at brothels, but even inside the Red Keep! My god, I’m looking at one of Robert’s bastards. But why bring him here? Robert must have several bastards.  
  
_“Then you’re from King’s Landing?” Ned asked.  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” Gendry said, “I am – or I suppose, was -- the apprentice of Tobho Mott.”  
  
“Good man,” Ned said, nodding; he was familiar with Mott, “A fine smith.”  
  
_As good as Mikken,_ Ned thought. _If I wasn’t biased, I’d say Mott was better._  
  
“He is, my Lord,” Gendry said.  
  
“What did you mean when you said you _were_ Mott’s apprentice?” Ned asked, curiously. “Not anymore?”  
  
Gendry blushed, and turned to Lord Arryn. Lord Arryn cleared his throat.  
  
"I saw how you looked at him when he removed his hood, Eddard,” Jon said, “I can tell what you were thinking, because they were likely the same thoughts, the same suspicions I had.”  
  
Ned did not say anything. He wasn’t sure if the bastard knew who his father was, and he didn’t want to be responsible for the revelation when he had just met the boy.  
  
“Would you permit young Gendry a guest room, if only until tomorrow morning?” Jon asked.  
  
_He wants to have a conversation without the boy present,_ Ned realized.  
  
“I would,” Ned agreed, “Are you hungry, Gendry?”  
  
Once again, Gendry looked at Jon, who merely raised his eyebrows at the boy. Gendry blushed again, then looked back at Ned.  
  
“Yes, my Lord,” he said, softly.  
  
“Maester Luwin,” Ned said, “Ask one of the handmaidens to prepare a guest room, nay, two guest rooms – one for Lord Arryn, the other for young Gendry. Then escort him to the Great Hall, for a meal. Ask one of the guards to watch over him, so he isn’t bothered. Show him where his room is when he’s finished with his meal.”  
  
“My Lord,” Luwin acknowledged with a slight bow of his head.  
  
“Gendry?” Ned asked.  
  
“My Lord?” Gendry replied.  
  
“Feel free to keep your hood off,” Ned said, “You have nothing to fear in Winterfell as long as a Stark lords over it.”  
  
Jon looked just as surprised as the young man did.  
  
“Thank you, my Lord,” Gendry said.  
  
Ned nodded, and looked toward Maester Luwin. The elderly Maester then escorted Gendry out of the room. It was only then that Ned realized he had been standing ever since Lord Arryn entered the room. He walked over to Jon, and held out one of his arms. Jon took his forearm in hand. Then Ned smiled, and grasped the man in an embrace.  
  
“It has been too long since we last met, my friend,” Ned said.  
  
“It has,” Jon acknowledged.  
  
Ned released his friend, and motioned to a chair on this side of his desk. “Please sit. You look wary from your journey.”  
  
“I am,” Jon said, with a nod, “And not only because of my journey.”  
  
Ned stared at the man, worry marring his features. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”  
  
Jon frowned and nodded weakly. “Just one of the many things I need to speak with you about, my friend.”  
  
Jon sat down in the offered chair, as Ned returned to his own.  
  
“I suppose the first thing I need to know,” Ned said, “is whether or not you – or someone else in King’s Landing – sent a raven announcing your visit? Because either it got intercepted, or Maester Luwin has decided to outright lie to my face, for I did not receive any word of you coming.”  
  
“Nobody aside from young Gendry knows my true reason for leaving King’s Landing and coming this far North,” Jon said. “And even he knows next to nothing, only that I am here instead of the Eyrie. I dared not send you a raven in fear that it would get intercepted. No, Robert and everyone else believes I am in the Eyrie, due to an emergency I could not permit my Lord Regent of the Eyrie to take care of. Not even the Spider or his little birds know I am here. At least I hope they are still oblivious, otherwise I fear I bring you more trouble than this conversation will bring you.”  
  
Ned frowned. _Well, if that wasn’t proof that this conversation would be grim, I don’t know what is.  
  
_“I suppose my next question comes more directly from my Lady wife than myself,” Ned said, “Does your visit have anything to do with Lady Arryn or your son? Are they unwell?”  
  
“When I last saw them they weren’t in ill health,” Jon said, then grimaced, “Well, I suppose I should say _any less ill_ when it comes to young Robin. He’s always been a sickly boy.”  
  
“He’s never gotten any better?” Ned asked; he had never met the boy, but Jon had mentioned him in several letters, so he felt as if he had met his friend’s son.  
  
“No,” Jon said, with a deep wary sigh. “To be honest, I did not tell my even tell my Lady wife the lie I told everyone else, concerning my departure. I told her next to nothing.”  
  
“Because she would have wanted to come with you if she thought you were going to the Eyrie,” Ned said.  
  
“Aye,” Jon said. “If she came along, I am not sure I could have come this far North. Nor would I have been able to bring young Gendry along.”  
  
“Yes… Gendry,” Ned said, “He’s one of Robert’s bastards, isn’t he?”  
  
“One of many,” Jon said, nodding, “In fact, as far as I can tell, he’s the eldest.”  
  
“Which means if anything happens to Joffrey, Tommen or Myrcella,” Ned said, “He’d be next in line?”  
  
“If he was acknowledged as Robert’s son,” Jon said, “Then yes. Which is exactly why I brought him along. Well, that and another reason.”  
  
“I don’t follow,” Ned said, “If Robert were to die, wouldn’t Joffrey succeed him? Gendry’s a bastard. Joffrey is true born.”  
  
An expression crossed Jon’s face that Ned could not translate. It was almost like… fear?  
  
“Ned, none of the conversation that follows leaves this room,” Jon said, “Unless you are one-hundred percent _positive_ that you can trust whoever you discuss it with.”  
  
“Of course,” Ned said. “On my honor, I promise you this.”  
  
Jon sighed, and reached into his traveling cloak, and for a brief wild moment, Ned’s hand twitched, once again, toward Ice. But he brought his hand away, when Jon brought out what appeared to be parchment. Several pieces of parchment. _Old_ parchment, in fact, like something from an old book.  
  
“Did you tear – whatever that is – from a book?” Ned asked.  
  
“Yes,” Jon admitted, “I could not bring the book with me. Grand Maester Pycelle would notice if it was no longer in the Tower of the Hand. _Especially_ this book.”  
  
“What book?” Ned asked, curiously.  
  
“These pages,” Jon said, setting the parchment on the desk, “come from a book entitled ‘The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms’. Grand Maester Pycelle refers to it as ‘a most ponderous tome’, or at least he did when I asked him of it.”  
  
“I’ve heard of the book,” Ned said, with a nod, “The very nature of the book means it will never be completed, and has, and will continue to be updated by individuals such as Grand Maester Pycelle for as long as there are Great Houses and Kingdoms.”  
  
“Indeed,” Jon said.  
  
“If that is true,” Ned said, “Then he would likely notice these pages are missing. Perhaps he already has, if he went searching for the book after you left.”  
  
“Which is why I fear I bring nothing but great trouble to you, my friend,” Jon said, “But I am afraid I have no other choice.”  
  
“Why?” Ned said, “What is so important about these pages?”  
  
“Read them,” Jon said, pushing the parchment across the desk. “Nay, don’t read them, skim through them, the first couple lines of each entry. You might have your answer by the time you finish.”  
  
Ned picked up the first piece of parchment, and his eyebrows raised when he saw the top left corner. There was the familiar sigil of House of Baratheon, and if that wasn’t evident enough, the name “Baratheon” written below the sigil. Ned glanced up at Jon for a moment, and he simply gave a nod, as if silently ordering Ned to continue.  
  
So Ned read aloud, in almost a whisper, but still audible. “Orris Baratheon, black of hair, first –”  
  
“First of his name isn’t the important part,” Jon interrupted, slightly impatient, “Next name.”  
  
“Axel Baratheon, black of hair,” Ned continued, then moved to the next name, “Lionel Baratheon, black of hair…” he was beginning to see a pattern, “Stefan Baratheon, black of hair…”  
  
Black of hair, black of hair, on and on it went. Then he came upon the last page.  
  
“Robert Baratheon, black of hair,” he read, and moved to the next name, “Joffrey Baratheon… go –”  
  
Ned felt his voice give out as he looked up from the page, to his good friend.  
  
“Joffrey Baratheon,” Jon echoed, his eyes narrowed, as they stared darkly, into Ned’s eyes, “golden-haired. Now, if you look at each of those Baratheons, apart from Joffrey, whose mother was a Lannister, even they – without departure –”  
  
“Was black of hair,” Ned finished, as a thought – an impossible thought – echoed through his brain.  
  
“Even in the past when a Lannister sired, or birthed a Baratheon, they were black of hair,” Jon said, “You know what else. Gendry Waters isn’t the only Baratheon bastard I met, and most, if not every last one of them, who were sired by Robert, _had black of hair._ I hoped… _hoped, even prayed…_ that I’d find a sandy-haired bastard, or a golden-haired bastard, hell, even a bastard with silver hair, because at least that would tell me that Targaryen genes were stronger, but no… even when all their other features were exotic, they were _black of hair._ You know what that tells me. When it comes to House Baratheon, Eddard… the seed is strong. So why, my friend, is Joffrey Baratheon so different from all of his ancestors?”  
  
Ned didn’t want to acknowledge it. Because if his thoughts rang true… yes, Jon Arryn was right to warn him of the troubles his visit would bring.  
  
Even then, he had to acknowledge it. Because no matter how much he wanted to deny it, no matter how much he wanted to tell Jon that the man’s suspicions were wrong, he could not do it.  
  
“Because Joffrey Baratheon, the Heir to the Throne of the Seven Kingdoms,” Ned said, then with a gust of air he hoped would extinguish before becoming audible, if what they meant rang false, “isn’t a Baratheon.... and that means neither are Tommen or Myrcella.”  
  
“Indeed, my friend,” Jon said, “Indeed.”  
  
“Then… who sired them?” Ned asked.  
  
“Come now,” Jon said, a bit impatiently, “If you are a smarter man than your teachers at the Eyrie ever gave you credit for, you know that answer!”  
  
“I’m guessing it is another Lannister,” Ned said, “Which means they are bastards of incest. If it was one child, I wouldn’t argue if you believed it could have been a child of rape. But given that there are _three,_ then it was consensual, I would imagine?”  
  
“Very likely,” Jon said, “Because I can’t imagine Cersei being so desparate as to want children with anyone else other than Robert, to the point that she accepted _three_ children that were somehow sired due to rape? I can’t even begin to fathom it.”  
  
Ned nodded. The possibility of it did seem extremely impossible.  
  
“I can’t imagine Tywin Lannister sinking himself so low as to bed his own daughter,” Ned said, “Perhaps one of Tywin’s siblings. No, they would not risk Tywin’s ire if he ever discovered it. The imp, Tyrion… does Cersei still refuse to mention his existence?”  
  
“She still loathes him because she believes him responsible for her mother’s death,” Jon said.  
  
“Well, that means it is either a Lannister cousin,” Ned said, “Or… her own twin, the Kingslayer.”  
  
“It is no secret how much Jaime Lannister dotes on his so-called ‘niece and nephews’,” Jon said, “Hell, if you ever see Robert, Jaime and the children all in the same room together, look on Jaime’s face every time Robert says how proud he is of his children. Sometimes I wonder if Jaime wants Robert to discover the truth.”  
  
Ned was almost afraid to ask the next question on his mind. “Speculate for me, my friend. What would happen if Robert ever did discover that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were the bastards of Jaime and Cersei?”  
  
Jon looked Ned right in the eye. “The next glass of wine he drank would likely be his very last, if you get my meaning.”  
  
Ned grimaced. _Poison, then. A woman’s weapon. Jon believes Cersei would murder her husband. Oh…  
  
_“You didn’t just come here to deliver these revelations or the bastard Heir to the throne did you, Jon?” Ned asked. “You’re here because… because you feel Robert isn’t very long for this world?”  
  
“I believe if Cersei Baratheon had her way,” Jon said, “Joffrey Bar – _Lannister_ – would be sitting on the Iron Throne by the time his next name day comes around. But Robert’s possible soon-to-be demise isn’t my greatest personal threat at the moment, I am afraid.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Ned asked.  
  
“You must have noticed something strange about my appearance when I first came into this room,” Jon said.  
  
“I did,” Ned said, “I thought you looked older than your total name days should allow. I even thought to myself that you – forgive me – seem to be more vulnerable than I had ever seen you. What ails you, Jon? And don’t lie to me.”  
  
“There is nothing natural that ails me, I am afraid,” Jon said, with a shuddering voice.  
  
“Something unnatural then?” Ned said, “What? Damn the gods, Jon! Tell me!”  
  
Jon’s next words came out in such a low voice that Ned barely heard him. “The Long Death.”  
  
Ned’s breath grew ragged. _The Long Death._ A poison so vile that even death would not reveal its symptoms for what it truly was. Most Maesters would believe a victim of the poison simply died of natural causes. It was meant to slowly affect its victim over time, to a point where it was rare for its symptoms to be discovered as truly one of poison. The victim would slowly grow weaker – most of the time they wouldn’t even know they were dying.  
  
“Are you sure?” Ned asked. “As I am sure you know, that particular poison –”  
  
“-- was made with the intention that its victim, nor anyone else, knew poison was the responsible weapon,” Jon acknowledged, with a nod. “I know. Fortunately, one of my dearest life-long friends just so happens to be a very intelligent Maester.”  
  
“Pycelle?” Ned asked.  
  
Jon emitted a raspy laugh. “Are you jesting? Pycelle? For all I know, Pycelle is one of the masterminds behind my poisoning!”  
  
“Truly?” Ned asked.  
  
“He is a suspect,” Jon said, “mostly because he is far more loyal to the Lannisters than he is to Robert or me. But I am not as narrow-minded to name Pycelle or Cersei Lannister as my only suspects.”  
  
“Who else?” Ned asked.  
  
Jon frowned. “My wife.”  
  
“No!” Ned gasped.  
  
“She wouldn’t be the mastermind, if she truly is behind it, trust me,” Jon said, “No, if she is behind it, there is one person who would be directly responsible. In fact, I have seen my wife in the company this individual far too many times in recent moons than even I would like.”  
  
“Who?” Ned asked.  
  
“Littlefinger,” Jon said, grimly.  
  
“Petyr Baelish?” Ned asked.  
  
“The very same,” Jon agreed.  
  
“The man is a family friend,” Ned said, “Catelyn adores him as if he is a brother to her.”  
  
“Come now, Ned, a _family friend_?” Jon echoed, “Wasn’t it your older brother who publicly embarrassed Baelish, or did I hear that story wrong?”  
  
“You did not,” Ned said, “Even then, I would never expect –”  
  
“Of course you wouldn’t!” Jon exclaimed, “Gods, Ned, old and new! If you ever did expect it, without enough proof, Littlefinger wouldn’t be the snake he is known for! I only suspect him because of how friendly he has been with my wife! If you were in my position, you would be too!”  
  
Ned frowned, which only annoyed Jon further.  
  
“Gods, you are oblivious, aren’t you?” Jon said, “Do you think Baelish sees Catelyn the same way she sees him, as a sibling? Did you ever hear the tale Baelish likes to belch out whenever he’s taken to the drink and believes nobody of importance is listening? Because I have! I’ve even suspected he wasn’t nearly drunk enough not to know I was in his vicinity! He tells tales of his days with the Tully daughters. He’s claimed more than once he was the one who took the maidenhead of not only my wife, but also yours, when they were younger than even your own heir!”  
  
“I’ve heard about his boasting, yes,” Ned muttered, “Catelyn assured me it wasn’t true. At least when it comes to her. She wasn’t a maiden when we married. She was honest enough to let me know that Brandon had the honor.”  
  
“So you do know, or at least have evidence to suspect, how Littlefinger feels about your wife?” Jon asked. “And yet, you say he is a _family friend._ Don’t tell me you even have come to _trust_ the snake?!”  
  
Ned sighed. “I admit if it there was a question of whether I should trust him or not, I’d favor trusting him just because of my wife’s friendship with him.”  
  
Jon chuckled, and then it became a whooping cough. He took a handkerchief from his traveling cloak and brought it to his mouth. When he stopped, he returned the handkerchief before Ned could notice if the fabric turned red at all.  
  
“Gods, Ned, marriage and fatherhood has turned you weak!” Jon scolded the Warden of the North.  
  
“Weak?” Ned asked, narrowing his eyes.  
  
“Maybe not as weak as a babe, but weaker than when I saw you last!” Jon growled. “Which isn’t surprising, given the fact that your title as Warden of the North has given you a false sense of security. Next you’re going to tell me there isn’t a single person north of the Twins who you do not trust!”  
  
Ned wouldn’t say it out loud, but he had to admit his friend’s words hurt him. He was the Warden of the North. He was a Stark. Every Northern house was loyal to him, just as he was to them!  
  
“Gods, Eddard, you do believe that,” Jon muttered, “You believe every single person in the North is a shining beacon of light and honor! You wouldn’t survive a moon in King’s Landing with your current attitude, boy!”  
  
“Excuse me?” Ned asked, his temper growing.  
  
“I am going to give you a scenario, Eddard,” Jon said, “I want you to shut up listen to this scenario, think on it, and say nothing until you have a good answer. This scenario is something I came up with about a moon before I decided to come to you to have this conversation. I know I may sound paranoid, but as a person in my position, do I not have that right?”  
  
“I suppose you do,” Ned muttered; still hurt by his father figure believing him to be so weak. But even he had to admit the man’s paranoia was just, especially as he was the victim of a cruel poison.  
  
“Let me ask you a question first,” Jon said, “You have permission to answer this. When I die, if Robert still lives, who do you think he would want as his next Hand of the King?”  
  
Ned frowned and thought about that for a minute. He sighed and said, “Me.”  
  
“Exactly, boy,” Jon said, “You. In fact, Robert and I had a discussion recently. I asked him who he would like to succeed me as his Hand, if I were to die. You know what he said? ‘Jon, if drinking and whoring do not kill me, before you die, I’m going to march down to Winterfell, and meet with my good friend, Eddard Stark. He wouldn’t deny my wish to become my Hand!’ As he became drunker, he claimed he’d do to you what he did to Rhaegar Targaryen if you denied him. I don’t know if it was the drink that claimed his tongue with that statement, but… tell me, you would accept his offer without question, right?”  
  
“If he ordered me to do so as my King,” Ned said, “Instead of requesting, as my friend, I guess I would have to accept.”  
  
“There’s the beginning of the scenario,” Jon said, “Now, imagine I did not make this trip. Imagine that I never spoke to my good friend, the Maester. Imagine I didn’t know I was dying. Imagine, if you will, I didn’t figure it important for me to bring those book pages down here to you. In other words, Ned, my visit, this discussion _never_ happened.”  
  
Ned merely nodded.  
  
“Let’s say I died,” Jon said; even the scenario of his death did not deter him, which made Ned realize that Jon knew his death was not only inevitable, but likely soon to happen, “and to you and everyone else who didn’t know the real reason, thought that I died of natural causes. Robert marches down here, requests you become my next hand, and you accept and go with him back to King’s Landing. Now, while you’re there, you seek out Pycelle. Pycelle is the Grand Maester after all, he is the one who would oversee my body to see how I died. You would want to know if there was anything suspicious, perhaps you would question what I was doing during the recent moons before my death.”  
  
“You’re my friend, like a father to me,” Ned said, “I would be concerned.”  
  
“I thought I asked you to be silent,” Jon said, glaring at Ned.  
  
Ned was suddenly reminded of his days as a foster of the man before him. When he became rebellious, that glare was something he would see from Lord Arryn. His gaze turned downward, and he was suitably cowed.  
  
“Yes,” Jon said, with a sigh, “I would hope that our relationship is so important to you that you _would_ be concerned, even suspicious of my death. Let’s say that did happen. Pycelle then decides to tell you of my interest in the book these pages came from. He even allows you to read the book, just as he allowed me. You soon discover the exact information these pages led you to. Tell me, Ned, what would you do?”  
  
Ned frowned as he considered, but Jon wasn’t finished.  
  
“Consider this,” Jon continued, “You say you trust Petyr Baelish. So you seek him out for information. As Robert’s Hand, you and Petyr would be in each other’s company… probably every day, depending on how many council meetings you attend. He, is after all, the Master of Coin.  
  
“Now, let’s consider a scenario where Petyr Baelish is not the friend you think he is. Perhaps Petyr does not have your best interests at heart. Come now, Ned, can you truthfully tell me there isn’t a mere possibility in the world that Petyr Baelish would yearn to see you gone from this world, simply because he wants something you have – Cat’s affections.”  
  
Ned frowned. He did not like this scenario. He didn’t like how realistic it sounded.  
  
“You decide to tell him the truth of what you discovered,” Jon continued. “Perhaps not all of it, but maybe enough where he realizes what you are implying. Now, if I am correct, and Petyr wants you dead, what would be his smartest move?”  
  
“Imply to somebody important that I have discovered the true parentage of Joffrey and his siblings,” Ned muttered. “But who would he tell? Robert?”  
  
“Please… why would he?” Jon asked. “How would that lead to your death? Robert trusts you. He’d likely believe your suspicions as the truth.”  
  
“If that is true, why did you not tell him everything you’re telling me?” Ned asked.  
  
“I wasn’t going to tell anyone in King’s Landing, not even the King!” Jon exclaimed, “Gods, you are so naïve of the goings-on of King’s Landing! There are spies and little birds hiding in every corner, and stinking pit in that hellhole! I wouldn’t have survived a day, and neither would Robert! It is as I said, Robert would likely die not a day after he discovered the truth!”  
  
Ned sighed. “You’re right.” _Especially if this is a Lion’s plot to put a Lannister on the Iron Throne._  
  
“Of course I am,” Jon said, “No, in this scenario, Baelish would likely go to the one person who would seek your head the quickest… the Queen herself. Now, Cersei wouldn’t come straight to you, nor would she send guards after you, be they Kingsguard, or Lannister men. No, she’d wait. Perhaps she may even start playing games with you, in hopes to anger you to the point of admitting your suspicions at a moment you did not plan!”  
  
Ned gulped. He did not like how convincing that sounded.  
  
Jon scoffed. “No, you, in your _trusting, oblivious_ nature, would believe that your _family friend_ , Littlefinger, could be trusted and therefore you wouldn’t suspect that your suspicions have been discovered by untrustworthy ears. Soon enough, Robert would find himself dead, and Joffrey would be on the throne.  
  
“Seeing a bastard of incest on the throne would anger you, and you would put a plan into motion. You would speak to Baelish, ask him to help you confront the King and his mother, never realizing you’d been had. What would happen? Baelish promises he’ll gather the Kingsguard, and when you go confront the King and his mother, admitting you know Joffrey isn’t the rightful heir, Baelish turns on you. And you find yourself in the dungeons and soon without a head, everyone believing you’re guilty of treason!”  
  
Jon glared at Ned, and coughed. “All because you were too good, honorable, trusting _and weak_ to understand King’s Landing _or_ the Game of Thrones!”  
  
Ned shuddered as he remembered a quote he had once heard. “ _In the Game of Thrones, you win or you die.”_  
  
He scoffed, in order to hide the sudden amount of fear coursing through him. He did something he hadn’t done since his rebellious days as a foster: angrily defending himself to the man he oft thought of as a father.  
  
 “I wasn’t aware you thought of me as so weak, Lord Arryn,” he muttered sourly.  
  
“Is that your only response, Eddard?” Jon asked, “Is that due to self-righteousness? Arrogance due to years of being an infallible Warden of the North? Or fear? Because you can admit, if only to yourself, that my scenario could very well happen?”  
  
“What is the point of this?” Ned asked.  
  
“Reality!” Jon said, “That’s the point, Eddard! I am dying, Ned! I might not even make the trip back to King’s Landing! Let us not forget the fact that I care for you! Love you! And your family!”  
  
“What does my family have to do with this?” Ned asked.  
  
“Oh, yes, I didn’t mention that, did I?” Jon said, “I apologize. After all, it is one of the reasons I decided I  needed to make my way here without delay.”  
  
“Go on,” Ned said; now he was the one becoming impatient.  
  
Jon glared at him once again, before sobering his expression. “A couple days before I started my journey, there was an interesting council meeting in which the King and Queen decided they wanted to be present – which is rare in and of itself. I soon discovered why they came. Cersei announced that she wanted the Council to start preparing for _Prince_ Joffrey’s name day party, even though it is a few moons away. I can understand why she brought it up so early. Big events like this usually takes some planning. Everything was suggested from a tourney in Joffrey’s honor, to a thirty-course feast. _Thirty!”  
  
_Jon scoffed. “Well, you can imagine where that brought the conversation. Renly Baratheon was first to bring up how expensive it would be. Littlefinger took offense, and said it was _his_ business to decide whether or not it was expensive, though he did admit it would be quite costly. Renly wanted to know who would be paying for it, and asked whether or not the coin would come from the pockets of the Prince’s Grandfather.”  
  
“Lord Tywin,” Ned said.  
  
“Who else but him?” Jon scoffed, “It seems his name is brought up whenever the word ‘coin’ is even uttered in the Council room! Anyway, when the subject of expenses was finished, Littlefinger brought up another topic that made me particularly suspicious of the man’s motives.”  
  
“What topic?” Ned asked.  
  
“He asked the King and Queen whether or not they had begun to think about who the ‘future Queen’ might be,” Jon said. “Ooh, you can imagine Cersei took offense to that as if she thought they were talking about her being replaced. Then Baelish clarified. Betrothal, he said. He wanted to know whether or not the King and Queen had decided upon who Joffrey might find himself betrothed to in the near future. That got everyone’s attention, of course. I, myself, actually asked Littlefinger why it was, in fact, his business to know the answer to that question. He defended himself by saying that as a member of the King’s council, he thought – and I quote – ‘it wasn’t beyond his position to suggest a name or two’.”  
  
“Did that go over well?” Ned asked.  
  
“Robert seemed to think it was a fair statement,” Jon said, “He said he was interested in his Council’s opinions on the matter. Before Baelish could say anything, there were a few suggestions. Pycelle thought it prudent that Joffrey be wed to a southern Lady. He, in fact, mentioned Mace Tyrell’s daughter, Margaery, as a possible choice. Varys suggested a daughter of Dorne, suggesting it could mend fences. I, of course, reminded the Spider that the Dornish weren’t going to seek any alliance, marriage or otherwise, until they had their vengeance for the fate of Elia Martell and her children.”  
  
“True,” Ned muttered, “They would want the Mountain’s head.”  
  
“Correct,” Jon said. “Then Baelish found his tongue again, and suggested none other than your eldest daughter.”  
  
“Sansa?” Ned asked.  
  
“Do you have another bastard out there that you haven’t revealed?” Jon asked, raising an eyebrow. “A daughter, perhaps?”  
  
“No,” Ned said, trying to keep his temper cooled.  
  
_Catelyn already questions my honor because of Jon Snow,_ Ned thought, _I don’t need more rumors of other bastard children of mine out there!  
  
_“And I would ask you not to spread such a rumor in my home,” Ned growled.  
  
“I was jesting, you fool – of course I meant Sansa!” Jon exclaimed, “Now can you see why I am suspicious of Littlefinger? Think about my scenario I mentioned. In the same conversation that Robert requests you become his Hand, he also requests your daughter’s hand for his supposed son.”  
  
“Is that possible?” Ned asked, with a grimace.  
  
“Who, of all the suggestions concerning a betrothed for Joffrey, do you think Robert favored?” Jon asked, raising an eyebrow, “Who, but the daughter of his good friend, his brother, Lord Eddard Stark?”  
  
Ned grimaced. Okay, that was a fine point. “I will not accept! Not after what I learned.”  
  
“But what if you hadn’t learned this revelation?” Jon asked. “If you were still as oblivious as ever. If you cannot deny Robert his request to become Hand, what makes you think you could deny his proposal to unite the Houses of Stark and Baratheon through marriage?”  
  
Ned sighed. “I might not have denied it, but I would have given it some thought.”  
  
“And your decision would be?” Jon asked.  
  
“Accepting his proposal,” Ned sighed, again. He could not deny it.  
  
“Exactly!” Jon said, “Now, think back to the scenario. Sansa’s now betrothed to Joffrey. Would you want her to go with you to King’s Landing to get to know her Betrothed?”  
  
_Gods damn it,_ Ned thought, grimly, _Sansa wants to marry a prince. If she begged me to take her to allow her to get to know her future husband, I would have accepted it!  
_  
“Yes,” he said, softly, wishing it wasn’t true.  
  
“And let’s say you were arrested and beheaded as a traitor,” Ned said, “Let’s say you couldn’t get Sansa out of King’s Landing when you discovered the conspiracy. What would happen? Would Cersei allow the daughter of a traitor to leave, especially if she decided that all Starks were now traitors?”  
  
Ned grimaced. “Damn it. Any more bad news or grim scenarios you wish to grace me with, Ser Hand?”  
  
“No,” Jon said, “But I have a question and a request for you. First I want you think about everything we’ve discussed, everything you discovered in these past several minutes. Then I want you to tell me what you’re going to do about it.”  
  
“Alright, and your question?” Ned asked.  
  
Jon coughed, and removed his handkerchief again, covering his mouth. When he lowered it, Ned saw blood on it.  
  
“I want you to grant a dying man his most important wish,” Jon said, “And tell me why you’ve been passing the son of Rhaegar Targaryen off as your bastard, without ever telling me about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so my first venture into the World of Ice and Fire begins. The timeline of this story begins a few moons before the canon timeline begins, for several reasons. However, a couple of notable events in the series happens faster than canon (such as the appearance of the direwolves, and Benjen Stark’s return to Winterfell. Both of these incidents occur because of an event that will happen in a few chapters.) One notable diversion from canon already happened – Sansa’s ‘flowering’ happening several moons earlier than canon.
> 
> I admit, I’m not anywhere near as knowledgeable as I wish to be when it comes to Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire. I have not read even one page of the book series. I only have knowledge of the television series, having watched every available episode, as well as information I find whilst researching the Wikis. As such I want you to expect the possibility that there will be parts of this story, where the terms and dialogue won’t seem canon, and characters may very well seem to be Out of Character. Most of this is my imagination mixed in with what I hope to be suitable Game of Thrones content. Feel free to correct any official ASOIAF terms I get wrong, as I am sure most of my readers will be better experts concerning the series, than I am.
> 
> I do not know much about Jon Arryn, as the only time I ever saw him, is when he was dead. So I am using my imagination, and everything about him, to me, tells me he would not only greatly disapprove of Ned’s canon actions whilst he was in King’s Landing, he would also think of him as idiotic, foolish, and with as much wit and experience as a first-moon squire. Therefore, if he had a chance to talk to Ned about his suspicions, and he realized Ned might be foolish in his actions when it came to the information, I imagine he wouldn’t exactly be pleased with him. Hence his behavior during this chapter. Also, I decided Jon Arryn was likely a very smart man, so why wouldn’t he have his suspicion about Ned’s bastard son, especially if he saw Eddard Stark as an honorable man who would never sire a bastard?
> 
> Speaking of Jon Arryn, the Long Death is a fictional poison. I was originally intending on using the Long Farewell, but it doesn’t have the “death of natural causes” I needed it to be, in order for it to be believable. Let’s just say Jon Arryn is lucky his Maester friend is an expert of poisons, to have identified what poison Jon is suffering from, because it is rather difficult to figure it out. Well, “lucky” is a bad term, perhaps, because Jon Arryn is still dying.
> 
> Also, please note, that this chapter could very well be the longest of the series. I was wanting to split it into two chapters, but never figured out where would be a good point.


	2. Three Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish to thank everybody who commented, and gave me Kudos on my story so far. So many good comments and it was only the first chapter! I am overwhelmed, especially as I am somewhat of a GOT/ASIOAF newbie! Thank you all!
> 
> As I stated in my author’s notes, last chapter, I am not as knowledgeable when it comes to small facts and things in the Game of Thrones/ASOIAF, so I will get things wrong. For example, I confused myself when it came to the Reach, and the Vale. I fixed that after I was corrected in the comments. 
> 
> Also, there was some confusion over my use of the title “Regent”. So let me clarify. When I implied Lord Regent, I thought it was simply a good title as someone who takes on Lord Arryn's duties, whilst he is all the way in King's Landing serving as Hand. He can't exactly control the Vale, or Eyrie, whilst there. Someone has to do the everyday, small, simple duties that can’t be done whilst the Lord is away serving the King. It is like calling Robb, or Bran "Regent", when Ned was alive in canon but all the way in King's Landing serving as Hand. They were doing Ned’s duties, even though he was still officially the Lord. That is all I meant when it came to that title. If it means something other than “Regent” in canon, let me know. However, given that Cersei becomes Queen Regent when Robert dies, it does seem that is the actual title for it. Although, there is also "Lord Protector", which might also be the proper title for it.
> 
> Also, it seems I have stirred a hornet’s nest when it comes to the Jonsa relationship in the fandom! I hadn’t realized it was such a match that brought a lot of drama! But, as I said, in this story, Jon/Sansa is definitely a natural route for this plot. Actually, you’ll understand why during this chapter! 
> 
> And finally, I learned something I had no idea about. Ned’s parents were first cousins. That little factoid changed part of a conversation in this chapter. It will be obvious when you see it.

**\--------------------------  
Ned Stark II  
\--------------------------  
****  
**_Jon coughed, and removed his handkerchief again, covering his mouth. When he lowered it, Ned saw blood on it.  
  
“I want you to grant a dying man his most important wish,” Jon said, “And tell me why you’ve been passing the son of Rhaegar Targaryen off as your bastard, without ever telling me about it?”_  
  
For what might have been an eternity, or perhaps just a mere moment, Lord Eddard Stark could only stare at the elderly Lord Arryn in shock. His mind was full of panic. If Jon Arryn knew his deepest, darkest secret, who else knew? Only two others, as far as Ned knew, knew the secret.  
  
The first was Lord Howland Reed. Lord Reed knew, simply because the man had been there to see Lyanna’s body and the baby boy, and had immediately figured out who the boy was.  
  
The second was his brother, Benjen Stark. He had never planned on revealing the truth to Benjen, however his youngest brother had actually guessed the truth for himself! Benjen realized that Ned wasn’t a dishonorable man when it came to marriage. His brother knew he wouldn’t have done such a dishonor on Catelyn by putting a babe in another woman’s belly. Therefore, the babe had to be someone else’s son.  
  
It was no secret that Ned had searched for and found his sister, Lyanna, on her death bed. He had come back to Winterfell with her bones and a babe he had claimed as his own bastard.  
  
_Promise me, Ned._ Even to this day he could still hear Lyanna’s voice, her pleading last words.  
  
He had promised her he would keep her son safe. He vowed to raise the boy as his own, even though that decision had caused his own wife, and everyone else to believe he had dishonored himself and Catelyn, and had a bastard son.  
  
If Lord Jon Arryn knew, then who else might know? Who else had suspicions? In order to even possibly answer that question, he needed to know how Jon Arryn knew.  
  
“Don’t, Ned,” Jon scolded him, “Don’t even try to deny the truth.”  
  
“I’m not,” Ned said, “I’m not going to lie to you.”  
  
“Really, now?” Jon asked. “Because you’ve done a pretty good job of it so far.”  
  
“I’ve never lied to you about this!” Ned said.  
  
“Because I never asked you about it until now!” Jon exclaimed, “You never volunteered to tell me, therefore it is an omission of truth. That’s still a lie! You apparently gave the boy my name. You honored me with that, and yet, you didn’t have enough honor to tell me who he truly is?”  
  
Ned scowled. “I couldn’t tell you, Jon! You said it yourself! King’s Landing is full of little birds and spies! I couldn’t just send a letter, and risk it being intercepted! I couldn’t exactly send a messenger. There would have been unwanted questions. I couldn’t risk going to King’s Landing myself, because of those little birds and spies. Robert could not and cannot know who the boy really is. If he… if he discovered that a small part of Lyanna still exists, if he discovered that small part is the creation of a union between her and Rhaegar Targaryen…”  
  
He shuddered and shook his head. “He wouldn’t hesitate to call for the boy’s head, just because of who his father was. Because of what he represents! And he’d ask my head too, just for keeping the boy’s identity from him! No, I promised my sister, I promised her… I would keep that boy safe. Yes, I honored you by giving him your name. But I… yes, I was happy to risk your ire, your anger, dishonoring you by keeping his identity a secret from you! Simply because you’re too close to the man who would want his head!”  
  
Ned exhaled after his rant, and leaned back in his chair. “How did you find out anyway?”  
  
“I don’t know when I figured it out,” Jon said, “Perhaps I had always known, but I had also hoped that maybe it wasn’t true. And if it was… well, if it was true, I figured it be best to keep it to myself. If only because I might have had the same worries you do. As you say, ff his true identity is discovered, Robert wouldn’t be happy at all.”  
  
He sighed, and Ned could see his friend trembling a bit. He wasn’t sure if it was from weakness and ill health, or emotions.  
  
“It wasn’t until I realized I was living my last few moons,” Jon continued, “It wasn’t until I planned on coming here to have this very meeting, that I thought of the boy, and my suspicions about him. Like I said, to know the truth, to know if my suspicions were correct, is one of my last wishes I want granted.”  
  
“What were your suspicions?” Ned asked, “Forgive me, but I need to know. Because if anyone else knows –”  
  
“I swear, I have never spoken a word of my suspicions to anybody,” Jon said.  
  
“I trust that you wouldn’t,” Ned said, “But I need to know. In case your suspicions are echoed by anybody else.”  
  
“I thought it would be obvious, Eddard,” Jon said, “Anyone who knows the real Eddard Stark, anyone who knows what kind of man you are, would certainly question the entire thing. You are not a man of dishonor, Ned. You may not have known Catelyn very well when you married her, you might not have had a lot of time with her, during those first moons of marriage, before you went off to war. But you were still a married man, and a man who would not disgrace his wife like that. Not for another woman. And you’re not exactly the kind of man who would pay for and bed a whore. You’re not Robert. Even when I fostered you, you weren’t the kind of young man to go off with Robert and the other boys to the local brothel. Bedding a whore is just not what you do.  
  
“So I asked myself. How could the honorable Lord Eddard Stark do something so out of character, so unlike him? And the answer came to me. You couldn’t. The boy you brought back to Winterfell… was not your bastard. When I heard what happened to Lyanna, how you brought her body back, along with the babe, I stared connecting the pieces. Putting two and two together. I started to figure out how long Rhaegar had been away, and how long he might have been with your sister. And I realized… hell, however long it was, was it not long enough to put a babe in a woman’s belly?  
  
“So then I realized. For Lyanna, for your sister… for her child, you, Eddard Stark, would dishonor yourself. For her child, you would lie to even your own wife and friends. Despite their ire and their anger following you for the rest of your days, you would do it. For Lyanna, and for her child.”  
  
Ned blinked away the tears. He should have known that would be Jon’s answer. After all, wasn’t that basically Benjen’s answer as well. Perhaps not as well-spoken, of course. But pretty much the same point in the end. Benjen knew he wasn’t a man of dishonor. So did Jon Arryn. If Benjen could figure it out, why couldn’t Jon.  
  
So could anyone who realized the true nature of Lord Eddard Stark.  
  
“You’re not the only person who knows, you know?” Ned muttered; he almost felt like laughing at the situation. “Lord Howland Reed knows, simply because he found me there with Lyanna’s body in my arms, crying over her still-warm corpse, and a babe crying for his mother because she wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. Also my brother, Benjen knows. And isn’t that ironic? He basically had the same suspicions as you did.”  
  
Jon blinked. “Benjen knows? I figured you wouldn’t have told him.”  
  
“Well, I wasn’t planning to!” Ned grumped.  
  
“Which was a mistake if you truly think about it!” Jon exclaimed.  
  
Ned blinked. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
“As I’ve already clarified, it was already a mistake for you to claim the boy as your own bastard,” Jon said. “You didn’t fool me, and it sounds as if you didn’t fool Benjen either. Here’s what I would have done in your position. If I remember correctly, even around the time of your sister’s death, Benjen had plans to join the Night’s Watch. Isn’t that right?”  
  
“It is,” Ned said, wondering where this was going.  
  
“The Men of the Watch take vows of celibacy – father no children, claim no wife,” Jon said, “So maybe, perhaps, Benjen could have realized this, and decided he wanted to experience the pleasures of a woman. He beds her, and his seed is planted, and blooms a few moons later, and what do you know? Out pops my namesake from between the legs of a whore! Benjen discovers the babe is his, but he’s insistent on taking the Black! So, he asks you to raise his son. My namesake is raised here, as your nephew, your honor is still intact, and nobody is suspicious about how you could possibly have a bastard! Now that is a fine, believable story! Something you and your brother could have come up with.”  
  
Ned sighed. Yes, that could have been a believable story, and he would be a liar if he said it wasn’t something he had thought of. But it was just something he couldn’t do.  
  
“I couldn’t do that to Benjen,” Ned muttered.  
  
“Gods damn your stubborn pride, Eddard,” Jon muttered. “If I recall, you have mentioned at least once in one of your letters to me that the Lady Catelyn does not exactly approve of my namesake, because she believes he’s your bastard! How would she have treated the boy if she thought he was your nephew, and hers by marriage!”  
  
Ned frowned. _Yes, if she thought he was my nephew, he likely would have cared for him if she didn’t come to love him._  
  
“You would have saved yourself, your wife, your family, and most importantly that boy a lot of grief!” Jon exclaimed. “What do you think Benjen would say today, if we told him about that scenario. Do you believe he would have accepted the plan had he known about it back then? What would he have cared more for? His sister’s son, or his own honor and pride? Do you not believe he wouldn’t have gone along with the story, if it meant you wouldn’t stain your own honor, and your wife wouldn’t see the boy as your bastard? I happen to believe he would have publicly claimed the boy as his own son, and therefore, the threat of everyone finding out the boy is of dragon’s blood would probably never come to pass!”  
  
“Maybe if I would have gone along with that story,” Ned muttered, “Jon Snow wouldn’t be asking me about his mother, because he would believe her to be simply a whore.”  
  
“So the boy is curious about who he truly is?” Jon asked.  
  
“Yes,” Ned said. “Every time he asks, I tell him it isn’t the right time.”  
  
“And how long before he decides that isn’t a good answer?” Jon asked.  
  
“I’m afraid to think about it,” Ned said.  
  
“Eddard,” Jon said, “You’re probably going to hate me for suggesting it. But you need to tell him.”  
  
_Promise me, Ned._ “I can’t,” Ned said.  
  
“You must,” Jon said, “And I’ll give you three reasons why.”  
  
“I’m listening,” Ned said.  
  
“The first reason is simple,” Jon said, “What if you don’t tell him, and you end up dead before he knows? What if he finds out from someone else? Benjen might decide to tell him, especially if you’re dead. Lord Howland Reed… I don’t know the man well, but what If he decides one day that the boy needs to know, for whatever reason. And then there is your other fear. I know the truth. What if someone else does? I don’t know if anyone else knows, of course. But what if someone knows? Someone who could use it against you? Imagine this: Robert or the Lannisters do find out, and send somebody – a sell-sword, or an assassin after the boy.”  
  
“I’d defend him with my own life!” Ned growled, “As would anyone in Winterfell who can fight!”  
  
“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘forewarned is forearmed’, Ned?” Jon asked, “The boy needs to know, so if, in the future, there is a threat against his life, he can prepare for it!”  
  
Ned decided the man did have a point, but he wouldn’t admit it… yet. “Your second reason?”  
  
“This one is the most troubling,” Jon said, with a deep sigh, “When you asked me if I had anymore news for you, I had forgotten something that came up recently – oh, perhaps a week or two before my travels -- in one of the King’s Council meetings. As you probably know, Lord Varys has little birds everywhere – Westeros, Dorne, even across the Narrow Sea. Recently one of those little birds brought Varys a very juicy worm. As you likely know, two Targaryens – aside from my name-sake, of course, are still alive.”  
  
“Viserys and his sister,” Ned said, nodding, “I forget her name.”  
  
“Daenerys,” Jon said. “Until recently, nobody knew where they were. They were living under false names, with disguises, and likely with a Targaryen ally somewhere in Essos. If they were living with this ally, then something happened that made them leave the secrecy and safety of their hiding spot. Maybe the ally died, maybe Viserys just decided he had enough of hiding and took his sister and ran. There are rumors, after all, that Viserys is getting impatient. He wants what is rightfully his.”  
  
“The Iron Throne,” Ned murmured.  
  
“Of course,” Jon said. “Well, as I said, a little bird brought Varys a particularly juicy worm. Well, I say little. This bird isn’t exactly little. You see, this bird comes from Pentos. Their name is Illyrio Mopatis.”  
  
“I’ve heard of the name,” Ned said, “Yes, he’s a Magister of Pentos. His name always comes up whenever there is discussions of trade between the North and Essos.”  
  
“Lord Varys recently received a letter from Magister Mopatis,” Jon said, “Apparently, for the last moon, or so, the Targaryens have been the house guests of the fine Magister.”  
  
Ned blinked. “You’re serious?”  
  
“As a wound to the gut,” Jon said, nodding.  
  
“I can’t imagine Robert took that news well,” Ned said, with a wry chuckle.  
  
“Oh, he was furious!” Jon exclaimed, “He not only wants the heads of the ‘damned dragonspawn’ – his words -- he wants the Magister’s head as well for even daring to offer them house and home. He was ranting and raving, as you can imagine. He yelled at his brother, Stannis, his Master of Ships, commanding him to get some crews together to make their way to Pentos. Baelish informed His Grace that it would put a huge dent in the coffers which already have massive leaks. Robert ordered his wife – who was present -- to demand to her father to fund the campaign. The Queen had the nerve to say to His Grace that her father likely wasn’t going to fund a campaign on the sole word of – and I quote -0- ‘the Spider and a big bird across the sea!’ The King ranted that Tywin would do it, or – again, I quote – ‘he’d put the Lord Lion’s head next to the head of one of his prize boar trophies.’’”  
  
 ”He said that?” Ned asked, blinking.  
  
“Yes,” Jon said, “The Queen yelled and ranted at him, obvious upset about the threat to her father, and the meeting basically was over after that because the discussion wasn’t going anywhere as long as His Grace was so wound up. He wouldn’t even let me talk to him. As far as I know, he got extremely drunk, and brought a couple of whores to his bed. The following day, the King attended another meeting. I don’t know whether it was the whores who advised him or if it was someone else. But he was calm at the start of the meeting. All memories of his rants and raves gone. He calmly told the Council that there would be no movement against the ‘dragonspawn’ or their ‘new sponsor’ for the moment. He simply commanded Varys to keep an eye on the situation.”  
  
Jon coughed again. “Nothing more had been decided by the time I left, and as far as I know the Targaryens are still guests of the Magister. Though if you ask my opinion, there has to be a reason the Magister is housing the Targaryens. He either promised Viserys something, or Viserys promised him something. I believe they’re hatching a plan.”  
  
“What kind of plan?” Ned asked.  
  
“No idea,” Jon said, with a shrug, “But whatever it is, I guarantee it will likely set Viserys on a path that leads him back here to Westeros. Unfortunately, his next moves are unpredictable, and that means bad news. It means you’ll be unprepared for whatever he’s planning. Bad news for you, for the North, and for all of Westeros. Unless something is done first.”  
  
“What do you mean?” Ned asked.  
  
“Well, that has to do with my second reason for you admitting the truth to my namesake,” Jon said, “Let’s say you tell the boy who he truly is. Who is true father was. Let him know a part of his father’s family is still alive.”  
  
“No,” Ned said, shaking his head, “I know him. He’d want to go find his uncle and aunt.”  
  
“Now why would that be so bad?” Jon asked. “Listen to me, Ned. I am a few steps from my death bed. Cersei wants her son on the Iron Throne, which means Robert probably will be following me to the grave soon enough. So where does that leave you? A Lannister bastard on the throne. And let me tell you this, Ned. Joffrey Lannister is nowhere near the perfect candidate of somebody I’d want as King. He is insanely loyal to his mother, the Queen. There’s also the probability that Joffrey would name his Grandfather the Hand of the King. All of a sudden, the Queen and her father become the power behind the throne, even though the bastard’s sitting on it. There is also the fact that Joffrey is not exactly a honorable and good boy. He’s… Ned, the only word I can describe him as, is a monster.”  
  
“He’s that bad?” Ned asked.  
  
“Worse,” Jon muttered. “His brother Tommen has a pet cat. Ser Pounce, he calls him. Whenever Tommen angers Joffrey, Joffrey threatens the life of the cat. And it isn’t just a threat. The castle crawls with cats who belong to members of the staff. Recently, there’s been a really bad pattern of missing cats, who never turn up again. If Joffrey has threatened his own brother’s cat…”  
  
“You think he’s done something to these other cats then?” Ned asked, with a grimace.  
  
“Yes, and if you want my opinion,” Jon said, “Anyone who has a tendency of harming innocent animals, does not stop with harming animals.”  
  
“Gods,” Ned muttered, “And Robert wants to pair him up with _my_ daughter?”  
  
“Robert knows nothing of Joffrey’s negative behavior,” Jon said, “He tends to ignore the negatives when it comes to the children. Now, imagine this. Joffrey’s on the throne. If Stannis or Renly ever discover the truth about the parentage of Joffrey and his siblings, do you truly think they’re going to sit back and let it happen?”  
  
Ned grimaced and shook his head. “They’d start a war with the Lannisters, for the throne.”  
  
“Precisely,” Jon agreed. “If war is inevitable, who will you side with? Obviously you’re not going to side against the Lannisters. The Baratheons? What if they decide to fight each other instead of ally together? Which is possible, because they don’t exactly agree with each other about everything when it comes to the realm. The two brothers butt heads during most council meetings, so yeah, plan for them opposing each other. Who would you side with then? How about neither of them?”  
  
Ned stared at Jon. “You’re mad. I know what you’re getting at! You want me to tell Jon Snow about his parentage. Then you want me to convince him to go find his uncle and aunt. Why? Because you want me to side with the Targaryens against the Lannisters, and you want the boy to be the one who tells the Targaryens about it?”  
  
“I ask again: would that be so bad?” Jon asked. “Didn’t I just say we don’t know what Viserys is planning? “The boy could find his uncle and discover exactly what he is planning!”  
  
“How do we even know what Viserys and his sister are like?!” Ned countered. “For all we know, they could be as mad as their father!”  
  
“So let Jon figure out whether they’re mad or a good candidate for the throne,” Jon said, “If they’re mad, Jon comes home and tells you what he discovered. Of course, Viserys and Daenerys aren’t the only Targaryen candidates for the Iron Throne.”  
  
Ned stared at his friend, as the man’s words echoed through his mind. He growled and stood up, nearly knocking over his chair.  
  
“Are you mad?!” Ned asked, “You’re thinking we should put Rhaegar’s son on the throne?!”  
  
“Why not?” Jon asked, calmly, even though Ned was anything but, “Is he such a bad choice? Besides, once you hear my third reason for telling him, even your lady wife might agree to all of this.”  
  
“Pardon?” Ned asked, as he slowly sat back down.  
  
_Why would Catelyn agree to any of this?_ Ned wondered. _Why would I even tell her about any of this anyway? Though if I do tell Jon, I can’t not tell Cat… Gods, do I then have to tell the rest of the family? Maester Luwin too? This is mad, Ned!_  
  
“Ignore the whole bastard of incest thing for the moment,” Jon said, unaware of Ned’s mental dilemma, “If you did not know Joffrey wasn’t Robert’s son, and Robert had asked you to unite your house and his through marriage – Sansa and Joffrey – how would your wife feel about that?”  
  
“Gods, it would be a dream come true for her,” Ned said, “Sansa dreams of being married to a prince, living in a grand castle, and having beautiful babies. She’s very vocal about that. Catelyn, she wouldn’t be any happier than to see Sansa with Joffrey, if she thought he was a true prince.”  
  
Jon grinned and laughed so hard that he had another hacking cough attack again.  
  
“What is so funny that you are trying to cough up a lung?” Ned asked, bewildered, as his friend wiped his mouth with his handkerchief again.  
  
“I think you should give your little girl exactly what she wants,” Jon said; grinning once again; Ned noticed a speck of blood beneath his friend’s lower lip.  
  
“Gods, that poison has ruined your mind,” Ned muttered, “Are you mad? I already told you I’m not letting Joffrey marry her! If that golden-haired bastard comes anywhere near her --!”  
  
“I ain’t talking about the bastard prince!” Jon said, “I’m talking about the Prince who shares my namesake!”  
  
Ned blinked. Then blinked again. “You want me to – the boy – and Sansa? You want me to arrange a marriage between the two of them?”  
  
“It would solve one of your most important problems at the current moment, Eddard,” Jon said. “Sooner or later, Robert’s going to either send you a letter or march up here himself, with the demand for your daughter’s hand in marriage to Joffrey. You can’t very well accept if she’s already under contract… or even already married!”  
  
“It’s a fine argument,” Ned admitted, “But why him? There will likely be several ravens coming in with betrothal offers once –” he cleared his throat, “Before I learned of your arrival, Catelyn informed me that Sansa… that she… she’s gone through a momentous occasion this morning.”  
  
Jon stared at Ned for a few moments, then he raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Well, isn’t that a fine coincidence! Nay, not coincidence, Ned. Fate! The very day I bring forth this suggestion, is the very same day the little lady in question becomes officially qualified for the very thing I’m suggesting!”  
  
“Yes, but why the boy?!” Ned asked again. “I could think of several other young men she could pair up with. Young men who she isn’t related to. He’s her cousin, after all!”  
  
Jon stared at him with an eyebrow raised to his hairline. “Your point? Weren’t your own parents cousins?”  
  
Ned grunted. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it for my own daughter… or the boy.”  
  
“He’s half-dragon, Ned,” Jon snorted, “At this point it is expected of him to marry someone who he’s related to by blood.”  
  
_So he can marry his aunt!_ Ned mused, then groaned under his breath, _Yeah, I’m not going to even attempt to say that out loud! Talk about the problems that would bring!_  
  
“I’m so glad you find humor in this,” Ned muttered.  
  
“You ask me why him,” Jon said, “My answer is… he’s ready-made, Eddard. If you pair her up with a son of one of your allies, or a son of another House, it would take many moons to even settle an agreement for a betrothal!”  
  
_Damn… he’s right,_ Ned thought. _Especially if they want something in return for their son’s hand.  
  
“_Before you could finalize agreements,” Jon continued, “Robert could arrive and demand your daughter’s hand. What will you do then? Deny the King? Tell him you can’t honor his request, because Joffrey isn’t his son? You can’t tell him you’re currently in talks with another House for Sansa’s hand. He’s the King. He’d demand they’d back out of the talks because his priority comes first! You’ll be stuck!”  
  
_Fuck,_ Ned mused, _Knowing Robert, that is exactly what he’d do.  
  
_“No, she needs to be betrothed,” Jon said, then snorted, “hell, maybe even _married_ by then, Eddard! And the only way that can happen is if she’s married to someone whose parent you don’t need to make a deal with! As I said, a ready-made husband who may be Sansa’s cousin. He’s not really her brother, so none of your allies are going to bat an eye!”  
  
“I’d have to tell them he’s not my son,” Ned said.  
  
Jon shrugged. “There’s a simple answer for that. Remember what I said earlier about how Benjen should have claimed the boy as his own son instead of you?”  
  
“You believe I should ask Benjen to volunteer such a story?” Ned asked.  
  
“It is necessary if you don’t want your allies to know the truth,” Jon said, “They’d support the marriage if Sansa marries a cousin not a so-called ‘half-brother’.”  
  
Ned groaned, and put his head in his hands.  
  
“I know that look,” Jon said, “Are you actually going to be smart and agree with my advice?”  
  
Ned sighed. He knew he didn’t have another choice. However, it wasn’t going to be entirely left in his hands.  
  
“I’m not going to take the decision out of their hands – Sansa’s or your namesake’s, I mean,” Ned said.  
  
_I’m sorry, Lyanna,_ Ned thought sadly, _Gods, I am. Forgive me. I need to tell him. You know I do.  
  
_“I… I’m going to tell the boy the truth,” Ned said. “I can’t discuss the idea of marriage, or the other Targaryens until I tell him everything. If he doesn’t agree to either of your ideas, then, I’m sorry, but I can’t force him.”  
  
“I’m not sure I could ask you to do that anyway,” Jon said, “No matter how much it might help you. If it turns out he doesn’t approve, well… we’ll consider other options.”  
  
“I’ll happily listen to anything you suggest, Jon,” Ned said. _I may not like or agree with everything we’ve discussed, but I can’t exactly argue that he hasn’t made any good suggestions!_  
  
“I’m not finished,” Jon said. “How will you explain my ideas to the boy that he needs meet with his Uncle and Aunt, or why it is necessary for him and Sansa to marry?”  
  
Ned swore to himself as he realized he hadn’t taken that into account. “What should I tell him? The truth?”  
  
“I’m going to leave that up to you, Ned,” Jon said, “But if it means there is a chance Jon will agree with my suggestions, then I give you permission to tell him what we discussed.”  
  
“Very well,” Ned said, then he winced as a realization crossed his mind. “Gods, I am sorry, Jon. You’ve only been trying to help me, and I’ve been anything but a courteous host. All we’ve done is talked and talked, even as you’ve been coughing up blood. Do I need to call for Maester Luwin?”  
  
“The good Maester can’t help me, Ned,” Jon said, with a sad smile. “I’ve already accepted my fate. I’m just trying to help make sure that when I do leave this world, I’m leaving it in good hands. Who better than yours, my boy?”  
  
Ned smiled and blinked back tears. “I promise I’ll do my best not to disappoint you, Jon.”  
  
“Keep that promise,” Jon said, “And I can die a happy man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to freely admit something here. I’ve recently read a lot of GoT/ASOIAF fanfiction recently. In the majority of the stories I’ve read, when Jon discovers the truth, it is always an entertaining read. Either Ned telling him, or Jon finding out after Ned’s death. But the discussions between Ned and Jon are always the most entertaining, and I am excited to write one.
> 
> My original intentions was for Ned to speak to Catelyn before he had his discussion with Jon Snow, but I decided he needs to tell Jon the truth before he can tell anyone else.
> 
> Next Chapter: An Arya POV as she introduces herself to Gendry, and a Jon Snow POV, as Ned requests his presence for an all-important discussion.


End file.
